


that light in your eyes

by TheDragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Dirty Talk, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Post-Magic Reveal, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21713077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDragon/pseuds/TheDragon
Summary: It seems silly to say he’s been half in love with Merlin since the moment they met, but it’s true. There has always been something about him, something that kept pulling Arthur closer to him—something that let them easily become friends, no matter how much Arthur would have hated to admit it at the time. Merlin has always been his foundation, his moral compass, his sounding board. He’s always been whatever Arthur needs. There has forever been a stability to him, a quiet strength—he seemed that way to Arthur even before he found out about the magic, and now that he knows about the power Merlin wields in his name, only for him? He thinks he’s well past the point of telling himself that he likes Merlin as no more than a friend or a brother in arms.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 430
Collections: Merlin Holidays 2019





	that light in your eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [8Verity8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/8Verity8/gifts).



> I'm reasonably proud of this fic. I absolutely loved writing about Arthur pining after Merlin, and I lovelovelove me some magic and praise kinks!
> 
> Happy holidays, 8Verity8!
> 
> Prompt:
>
>> Arthur totally learning about Merlin's magic (modern or canon compliant) and just totally falling even more head over heels over what a total badass Merlin is... nut you know, he can't let Merlin know that. Really open to the setting. I just love the idea of Arthur having a bit of a magic kink.

All in all, Arthur isn’t as put off by this whole ‘Merlin has magic’ thing as he probably should be. Yes, there had been screams and shouts and accusations and an insurmountable feeling of betrayal, but, well…

It’s _Merlin_.

And at the end of the day, there isn’t anyone Arthur loves more than him.

There’s just something about Merlin when he’s casting a spell—something in the way his hands move, and how his eyes turn gold, and how there’s an expression of complete and utter focus on his face. He looks beautiful—surreal, almost—and, well, Arthur is only human. How could he not admire the colour of his eyes? The words of enchantment on his lips? The tendrils of power coursing from the tips of Merlin’s fingers?

Good god, he even likes the nervous expression Merlin wears on his face whenever he does magic in front of Arthur. It’s endearing, though at the same time, it breaks Arthur’s heart. He doesn’t want to be someone Merlin is afraid of. He wants…

He wants to be someone Merlin could give his whole self over to. He wants Merlin to trust him, to show Arthur every hidden part of himself, to tell him every secret that he’s ever kept.

Arthur _wants_.

He tries not to let Merlin know, not with how tentative their relationship has become over these past few weeks; he can’t have anything putting more dents in their friendship, so he hides his emotions.

Or, well, he hides them from Merlin. He doubts that anyone else has managed to miss how he’s fallen head over heels in love with his idiot of a manservant. Sometimes, it seems like wherever he goes, he’s followed by Gwaine’s good-natured teasing, or Elyan’s smirk, or Leon reciting poetry.

(Poetry. The mere thought of it makes his skin crawl. He still has half a mind to murder Merlin for coming up with that excuse the _one time_ they went wandering around the castle in the middle of the night.)

It seems silly to say he’s been half in love with Merlin since the moment they met, but it’s true. There has always been something about him, something that kept pulling Arthur closer to him—something that let them easily become friends, no matter how much Arthur would have hated to admit it at the time. Merlin has always been his foundation, his moral compass, his sounding board. He’s always been whatever Arthur needs. There has forever been a stability to him, a quiet strength—he seemed that way to Arthur even before he found out about the magic, and now that he knows about the power Merlin wields in his name, only for him? He thinks he’s well past the point of telling himself that he likes Merlin as no more than a friend or a brother in arms.

“Arthur? Are you alright?”

He blinks twice and turns his head. Merlin is standing next to his chair, eyebrows pinched in concern. He reaches out his hand and places it on Arthur’s forehead

“I’m fine, Merlin,” Arthur says, waving him off when there’s nothing he wants more than for Merlin to continue touching him. Merlin purses his lips and stands his ground.

“Then what did I just say?” he asks, glaring at Arthur.

“Something immensely stupid, no doubt,” Arthur mutters under his breath, making Merlin glare at him all the harder.

“Alright, what’s going on?” Merlin asks, putting his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “You’ve been out of sorts these past few days—don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Arthur groans. Of all the times for Merlin to notice that something is weighing on his mind, it had to be tonight.

(Maybe he’s being a bit unfair. Merlin _always_ notices when something is bothering him—it’s just not every time he asks Arthur about it directly rather than trying to suss it out himself.)

“I said I’m fine, Merlin. Get me ready for bed,” he says, getting out of his chair and once again making Merlin’s hand fall to his side. His shoulder feels warm despite its absence.

Merlin bites down on his lower lip, but falls silent. Arthur can tell there’s something on his mind, but he doesn’t ask. He’s not in the mood for a serious conversation tonight.

It’s a matter of minutes for Merlin to douse the fire, pull down the covers, and get him in his nightclothes. He longs to get into bed and go to sleep, but Merlin’s hands are lingering on the laces of his tunic.

“Is it me?” he asks in a small voice, not quite daring to look Arthur in the eye. “Is it my magic? Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“Merlin, what—”

“It’s just. I know that you said you’re alright with it, and most of the time you _seem_ alright with it, but sometimes you just _stare_ at me when I use it and I’m not sure _what_ to think because—” Merlin babbles, cheeks flushing redder the more he talks. He looks so nervous, so uncertain, and all Arthur knows is that he doesn’t want Merlin to look like that, can’t _bear_ to have him standing in front of him looking like that, not when there isn’t the slightest reason for it.

His arms seem to wrap around Merlin of their own accord. It’s not something he does consciously, yet Arthur can’t bring himself to regret it. Merlin tenses at first, but after a few seconds, he starts to relax and melts into Arthur’s arms as though he belongs there.

Because he does. He does belong there. Arthur buries his face in the crook of Merlin’s shoulder and holds tight.

“It’s not your magic. It’s not anything you did,” he whispers into Merlin’s skin. “It’s me. This is all me.”

It’s easier this way, when he can’t see Merlin, and Merlin can’t see the emotions displayed on his face.

“What’s all you? Arthur, I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong!” Merlin tries to lean back, to see Arthur’s face, but it makes Arthur hold on tighter.

“That’s the thing, see. It’s not that anything is wrong, not per se. It’s just…” he trails off.

His heart is beating in his ribcage and he can practically hear the blood pounding through his veins. He takes a deep breath to steel himself, because Arthur Pendragon may be many things, but he is most certainly not a coward.

“Arthur?” Merlin asks, his voice quiet and soft and _caring_. The sound of it is enough to make the words spill from his lips.

“I like it when you use magic. I… _god_ … I _like_ it, Merlin. I love the golden light in your eyes and how you exude this _power_ and I—” Arthur breaks off and closes his eyes.“Every time I see you use magic, I think I fall a little bit more in love with you.”

Any second now, Merlin is going to push him away. He won’t laugh at Arthur—he’s not cruel enough for that—but any second now he’s going to push Arthur away and tell him that he’s sorry, but he doesn’t return Arthur’s feelings and then it’s all going to be a mess, and they’ll wake up in the morning, pretending that nothing happened and that they’re nothing more than friends, always have been and always will be, and it’s going to be horrible so _horrible_ —

Merlin doesn’t push him away. If anything, his hold on Arthur grows tighter, and Arthur thinks he can feel wetness begin dripping down the side of his own neck.

“You never. Arthur, you never _said_ ,” Merlin whispers. “Gods, why did you wait so long? Why did _I_ wait so long? _Gods_.”

And then Merlin turns his head and kisses him.

At first, Arthur just stands there, frozen with shock, but once his brain finally starts working again, he pushes forward and kisses Merlin back. He’s clumsy with exhaustion—more emotional than physical—but it’s all right because Merlin isn’t doing any better, and somehow he manages to trip Arthur up so that they both land on the bed. Arthur huffs out a breath when Merlin lands on top of him, but he doesn’t let him go.

Now that he has him, he’ll never let Merlin go.

He spreads his legs to fit Merlin between them more comfortably, then reaches up to pull Merlin’s head down. Merlin isn’t at all prepared for it, and though their teeth clash and their noses bump against each other, it’s still the most wonderful thing Arthur has ever experienced. Merlin’s hands wander down his body, lower and lower until he finally reaches the hem of Arthur’s tunic.

“Can I?” he asks, slipping his fingers underneath it. The feeling of Merlin touching the bare skin of his stomach makes Arthur shiver with pleasure.

“Yes,” he groans. “God, yes.”

It’s hard to believe that this is actually happening. It feels like a dream— _too much like a dream_ —and there’s a second where the mere thought of _this_ being nothing more than a figment of his imagination makes fear shoot up Arthur’s spine and lock his muscles in place. He closes his eyes.

But then Merlin is there, kissing him again, lips and tongue right where Arthur wants _needs_ them, and he stops thinking altogether. He lets his hands fall from Merlin’s face to his shoulders, then finally to land on his hips.

Merlin’s hands are travelling further up his tunic, leaving paths of fire wherever they touch. He slips them around to Arthur’s back to try to bring them even closer than they already are.

“That’s it,” Arthur breathes, breaking off the kiss. “Clothes, off. Now.” He tugs on Merlin’s shirt.

Merlin smiles down at him and presses one last kiss to his lips before sitting up between Arthur’s thighs. He wrenches his tunic up over his head, leaving his hair looking like a bird’s nest. Arthur pushes himself up, too. His fingers fumble over the soft material of his nightclothes, and he can’t seem to get the laces of his breaches undone. Right when he’s desperate enough to try to rip them apart, Merlin replaces Arthur’s hands with his own.

It’s unfair how easily the knot comes undone; as if it, too, cannot resist Merlin.

Not that Arthur is complaining, mind. Once the knot is undone, it’s a matter of seconds to get his breaches off his legs, then his smalls.

And then he and Merlin are both sitting on the bed, naked, looking at each other.

“You’re beautiful,” Merlin whispers, face full of adoration. Arthur blushes a bright red.

“Handsome, Merlin. Women are beautiful,” he complains half-heartedly, reaching out to grip Merlin’s wrist and pull him closer.

“Men can be beautiful, too,” Merlin replies. He shifts forward on the bed, and they end up with him straddling Arthur’s legs. “You’re perfect,” he whispers, almost reverently, shyly smiling down at Arthur.

Arthur does his best not to react, but he can’t help the heat that floods his groin when compliment after compliment spills form Merlin’s lips. His cock, already half-hard from the kissing, rises to full mast. He’s so focused on Merlin’s face that he doesn’t see Merlin’s hand inching towards his erection, doesn’t realise it’s there until he feels deft fingers wrap around it.

“What do you want, Arthur?” Merlin asks, slowly jerking him off. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t—” Arthur pants, unable to form a coherent sentence due to the mounting pleasure. “ _Anything_. Please, Merlin!”

“You’re so beautiful when you beg for me,” Merlin hums into his ear. The sound of his voice sends tremors racing up Arthur’s spine. “So gorgeous.”

Arthur reaches out to get his own hands on Merlin, but they never reach him. Merlin’s eyes glow gold for a split second, and then Arthur is spreadeagle on the bed, hands and feet held in place by Merlin’s magic. He fights not to moan when he realises that he can’t move.

“Since you said you loved my magic, I thought you might like this.” Merlin grins down at him. “Now I can do whatever I like to you.”

Arthur’s cock is throbbing in Merlin’s hand. He tries to thrust his hips upward, hoping for some sort of friction, but it only results in Merlin letting go of him.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Arthur? Do you want me to slick you up and stretch you out with my fingers and then my cock? Or would you rather I ride you, make it so slow and torturous that by the end, you’d be begging me to let you come? And I wouldn’t, not then. I’d come all over your chest, and then maybe, if you were good, I’d let you rut against my thigh.”

He’s never heard Merlin speak like this before—never imagined he could, in fact. The words are absolutely _filthy_ , and Arthur hasn’t had anyone speak to him like this before, not once, not _ever_ , and yet every single syllable that comes out of Merlin’s mouth makes his cock all the harder.

“Come on, then. Fuck me,” Arthur says, writhing in his bindings. “If you’re man enough.”

“Careful, Arthur,” Merlin warns him, eyes flashing that wonderful shade of gold again. “Watch what you’re saying.”

“Or what, Merlin. What will you do to me?” Arthur goads, smirking at him.

“You have no idea,” Merlin says. He settles himself between Arthur’s legs and licks his lips. “No idea at all.”

It’s pure heaven, the feeling of Merlin’s mouth wrapped around his cock. It’s hot and wet, and every time he pulls up, Merlin does this _thing_ with his tongue. Arthur tries to thrust his hips up, but Merlin doesn’t let him. He doesn’t bother holding him still with his hands—he has magic for that. As Merlin moves his head up and down Arthur’s cock, his fingers trail over Arthur’s balls, then his perineum, down to his hole. Merlin strokes the soft skin with his thumb until Arthur relaxes enough for him to push the tip of it in.

“You’re so hot inside,” Merlin says, easing off Arthur’s cock. “So dry and so tight. We need to fix that.”

Arthur nods his head eagerly. Merlin removes his thumb, leaving Arthur clenching around nothing but air, but then there’s a whispered word and his fingers are back, slick with oil. Before Arthur has the chance to tense in anticipation of the intrusion, Merlin swallows down his cock. The pleasure is so intense that Arthur barely notices it when Merlin slips his index finger inside him.

“Oh, fuck,” Arthur curses when he feels it moving in his arse. Merlin wiggles it around a bit, getting him used to the feeling of having something shoved up _there_ , before adding another finger. He stretches Arthur wide, scissors him open on every outward thrust, and then his fingers start gliding over something _inside_ Arthur, something good, something that makes him moan out his pleasure for all to hear. Merlin abruptly releases him from his mouth; the feeling of his breath on his wet cock makes Arthur shiver.

“There we go,” Merlin says, obviously pleased with himself. “That’s your prostate, Sire. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“ _Yes_!” Arthur exclaims. “Fuck, Merlin, _please_!”

“Not yet. Not until I’ve opened you up properly. Not until I’ve got you writhing beneath me, willing to do anything to get your release.”

Arthur sobs at the words and shuts his eyes tight when Merlin withdraws, only to come back in with three fingers. The stretch hurts at first, but then Merlin is pressing on his prostate over and over again, and Arthur begins to feel like he’s going mad from the sheer pleasure.

He wants to come so badly, but Merlin’s abandoned his cock in favour of stretching open his arse. Arthur tries to twist his hips despite the magic holding them still, hoping to bring some of Merlin’s attention back to his erection, but all that does is get him a slap on the thigh for his troubles.

Merlin doesn’t let up. His fingers glide in and out of Arthur’s hole easily, what with the amount of oil he used, and every time they hit his prostate, it makes Arthur’s cock jump. His heart is pounding, his blood rushing through his veins, and fuckfuck _fuck_ he’s going to come, he’s going to—

Just before he can, Merlin wraps his hand around his cock and squeezes tight. Arthur downright _wails_.

“Please, Merlin,” he gasps, face flushed red and body covered with sweat. “Please please _please_! I can’t. I need to come. _Please_ let me come. I need. I _need_ —”

“Shhh, Arthur. You’re doing so well, love. Just a bit longer, yeah? Just a bit longer and you can have your release.” Arthur lets the words wash over him, lets himself focus on nothing other than the sound of Merlin’s voice.

“ _Please_ ,” he whispers one last time, and finally, _finally_ it has the desired effect. Merlin removes his fingers from Arthur’s arse, shoves a pillow under his hips, and lines up his cock. It’s thick, much thicker than anything that’s been inside him before, and the stretch burns at first—so much that he takes a second to shut his eyes and focus on his breathing. It burns something terrible despite the oil and preparation, but when Merlin finally bottoms out, he stays still to let Arthur adjust. He starts saying something, but all Arthur can hear is the blood pulsing through his ears, and, and, and—

“—so good for me, you know? So good, you’re taking it so well for me. Look at you, stuffed full of _my_ cock, bound to the bed with _my_ magic, spread out just for _me_. You’re so beautiful, so brilliant—”

The words calm him. Arthur takes one more deep breath, then lets it out.

“Move,” he says, adding a ‘please’ as an afterthought.

Merlin does as he asks. He withdraws until just the head of his cock is inside Arthur, then thrusts forwards carefully. He’s making good on his threat to go slow, but Arthur can’t have that anymore. After the first few thrusts, he tries shoving back on Merlin’s cock, and is thrilled when he realises he once again has some range of motion. Merlin grunts when Arthur shoves his hips back too hard, but takes the hint and starts pounding into him faster.

The bed creaks beneath them, and if Arthur were in his right mind, he would be ashamed at the thought of the guards outside his chambers being able to hear everything that’s going on.

Merlin’s cock is grazing his prostate on every thrust, making Arthur’s cock leak all over his belly, and then Merlin _finally_ deigns to wrap his hand around it jerk him off. It doesn’t take long for Arthur to come, not when he’s been on the edge for the better part of half an hour. He gives in to the pleasure and spurts all over his belly. He feels like he’s floating, high on the feeling ofMerlin taking his own pleasure hard and fast between Arthur’s legs.

He doesn’t realise Merlin has come until he eases his spent cock out of Arthur. It stings a little; Arthur fights not to wince. Merlin’s cock is followed by a dribble of come and lube. It tickles as it makes its way down his thighs, and his hole feels wide open. Merlin looks down at him in apology and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. He moves to lie down on his side, presses up against Arthur and watches him with a small, private smile.

“So.” Merlin says. His smile grows larger when Arthur rolls his eyes and also turns onto his side so that they’re face to face.

“So,” Arthur repeats, grinning. He rests his hand on the side of Merlin’s face and caresses his cheekbone with his thumb. Merlin leans into the touch and reaches out to do the same to him.

“We could have been doing this for ages, you realise,” Merlin says. “We could have been having magnificent sex all over the citadel. I could have been riding you while you were sitting on your throne, and we could have had something to occupy the time during all of those boring hunting trips!”

“You’re a fiend.” Arthur laughs. “An incorrigible fiend.”

“How dare you, sir!” Merlin pretends to be affronted. “You’re the one who gets off on me using magic!”

Arthur groans and presses his head into the pillow beneath it.

“Yes, well, that is entirely your fault—you and your glowing eyes and your fingers and that expression of focus you always wear whenever you’re casting a spell. What’s a man to do?” Arthur questions, moving forward so that their foreheads touch.

“What indeed.” Merlin smiles. “What indeed.”


End file.
